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 |  My second blog. What you get are pieces of me; my humor, my memories: be welcome. |
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MY BOOK! http://www.lulu.com/davidmac73 This picture was in the header of my first blog and I wanted to bring it back. Me and my sweetie on our wedding day....it is my favorite picture. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This is my second Blog on WDC. The first Blog, Random Thoughts, is finished and done and I loved almost every minute I spent doing it. This blog will be somewhat different than the first because I want to use this space for my humor and my memories. The humor may sometimes fall flat and the memories may, at times be boring, but isn't that the way it is with life. Please join me here and partake in these pieces of me and if sometimes you find the jokes unfunny or the memories dull, then please come back another day and maybe you will find something to your liking. After all, like my daddy always said: "Some days you get the bear, some days the bear gets you." Thank you, vivacious   for this neat new logo for my blog! Yup, this about says it all, I think!** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I thought that Independence Day was the appropriate day to put this great new siggy in my blog....Thank you sultry ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please check out Scarlett's Newsletter for Bloggers: The Blogville News
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Thank you, Startiara  for this lovely Siggy!! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I had a dream last night. Now that in and of itself, is not that big a deal. After all, we all dream on a nightly basis, but this dream was different; it was so real, so vivid, I actually thought I was not dreaming. Last night I was back in my Grandmother’s house. I am still amazed at how real the whole dream was. I could feel the warmth of the wood burning stove in her kitchen, I could even smell the aroma of a fresh baked apple pie which she had placed on the window sill of her kitchen to cool. In the dream, I walked once more around the yard where I use to spend so many hours playing. Out back of her house I saw again the chicken pens and the pasture where her milk cow grazed happily. I could hear the noises of the pigs in their pens, greedily calling to be fed. And then, there was my grandmother, standing next to me, looking up at me and smiling. It was then, in the dream that I realized that I was not a child, but a grown man; I towered over her slight, five foot frame. “Granny, you want me to milk the cow for you while I’m here?” I was so excited at the prospect of once again helping her with the chores, like I did as a small child. She smiled that warm, beautiful smile that always made my heart leap as a small boy. “Oh no, boy,” she said. “Those days are long gone now, you are grown man. I want you to come sit on the front porch with me and let’s just relax a bit.” I followed her to the porch and settled into one of the pair of ancient old wooden rockers that had been sitting there forever, and she took a seat in the one next to me. Between the two chairs was a small, round table and on the table was a large glass of sweet iced tea, the kind she use to always make for me after a long, hot day in the fields picking vegetables from her garden. I took the glass and turned it up and took a long drink....God it tasted so good. This whole time Granny just rocked in her chair and watched me with that smile on her face. Finally, as I placed the empty glass back on the table, she said: “You did good boy. You worked hard and you made a good life for yourself, now it’s time to rest awhile. Your momma and daddy will be here soon and your aunts and uncles will be along. I think we are gonna have ourselves a reunion.” I can not tell you how wonderful it made me feel then just to think about all those people gathering once more...all had been long gone, some for thirty years or more. Then I was standing back in her kitchen and I could see chicken frying on the stove and I could smell the ham baking in the oven. There were bowls of purple hulled peas, turnip greens, and mashed potatoes waiting to be moved to the table. As I stood there and basked again in the sensory memory of that food and that long ago kitchen, I heard my grandmother call me from the porch. “David, come out here. Your guests are starting to arrive.” Then I woke up. At first I tried so very hard to go back to sleep, to return to my grandmother’s house, to get back to that reunion.....finally though, I had to give up. Sleep would not return. I have spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out what that dream meant. I think I know, but I will just have to wait and see. It really is going to be a wonderful reunion. I loved my granny’s apple pie the best of all. Memorial Day is a good day to remember. So this weekend I hope you all have good memories visit you and I hope they lift you up and carry you over all the bad times. |
| Okay, is everyone in America busy buying their hot dogs and hamburger patties for the big cook out and celebration this weekend? Another Memorial Day is upon us and this means people flocking to the parks and the beaches for cook outs and whatever else they do with the federally mandated celebration. Well I got a suggestion for you all who read this blog. Everyone on this site needs to go over to Hildegarde33 's blog and read "Invalid Entry"  .Yes, this should be required reading by everyone BEFORE they head out to celebrate a holiday which few of us even understand. Hildegarde33 is a new blogger. She has seven entries, no rates and no reviews of her blog and that is a crying shame.....it is one of the good ones on this site.If you had not noticed, I dislike this holiday intensely. I would love to hear my buddy Ken's take on the holiday. Historically, after every war we have ever fought, the people of this country has clamored for the reduction of its armed forces. Yeah we all want them and love them when our fats in the fire but once the bullets stop flying, the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines are gutted. Their funding is cut to the point that all but a few soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines are forced out of the military in order not to starve. In peace time the liberals will have you believe that a strong military is not needed. After all, they say, we are going to be nice to everyone so who is going to want to harm us...we will just reason with them. Yeah, that always works! NOT! So you will please forgive me if this holiday always highlights a sort of national hypocrisy for me. Just once in my life time I would like to see the politicians and the Hollywood personalities just shut the hell up and get out of the way. Then, after our brave men and women of the armed forces have finished up the war and come home, then those of less intestinal fortitude can step forward and tell us how THEY would have done it...it will be safe for them to mouth off then. I have to wonder what Rosie O'Donnell will be doing for Memorial Day. |
| Our little town has a local web page complete with a message board where folks can leave messages like things they want to sell or to advertise local events. A large portion of the message board is taken up by Bubbas ranting about one thing or another so there is a certain comedic value to be found there. The thing is....I make it a rule NEVER to go there...I hate the dang place. Unfortunately, Mel loves the site and reads there every day. Now that would be okay, but every time she finds something “interesting” she just has to share it with me. Today was no different. She just could not wait to show me a notice left on the message board about an upcoming....”Event”. I will post it here and share it with you. This was just about the saddest thing I have ever read, what do you think? First Annual Golden Years Prom Free to all Senior Citizens Date: Saturday, June 9, 2007 Time: 6:30 p.m. - 9:30 p.m. Location: Livingston Junior High School Attire: As dressy as you like or come as you are (gently used dresses and suits will be available at Crown Health Services, 1601 Hwy 59 N, Suite B if needed, this is near the hospital) Evening will include: Live music , Dance exhibitions, refreshments and snacks, and corsages and boutonnieres will be provided. Please RSVP: Crown Health Services See what I mean....JUST SAD! To make matters worse, Mel was chuckling and asking me if I wanted to go to the prom! I immediately got the image of two old birds locked together out on the dance floor, standing all alone long after the music has stopped and the rest of the dancers had tottered off the dance floor. “Awww, isn’t that cute,” Rhonda May exclaims. “They don’t want to stop dancing.” “Uh, no,” Billy Bob replies. “I think they died during the song and their knees locked up....they just can’t fall down.” What the hell ever happened to the new slogan: “Fifty is the new Thirty”? According to that little ditty, I am still in my damn prime! So what do I need with a damn SENIOR prom? I think Mel just shows me this crap to watch my blood pressure spike. I need to check and see if she has increased my dang life insurance. *********************************************** windac did an great blog about drinking that got me to thinking about some of my misadventures with alcohol. I thought I would leave you with this little walk down memory lane courtesy of Jim Beam...... Back in the dark ages, when I was in the Navy and going to school to become a medic me and my best bud, Tuchek decided to spend a weekend liberty partying in San Diego. Well toward the end of the evening we found ourselves in a local dive whose patrons were mostly Army pukes. Both of us were pretty wasted by then so we thought nothing of sitting among our military brethren and downing a few shots while listening to some good music. Now normally, back then for some reason, Army and Navy did not mix all that well when alcohol was involved...go figure. Well the night was progressing nicely; we had traded a few pithy insults with our Army buddies but no blood had been spilt....yet. Then Tuchek decided he must answer the call of nature. Well he weaved his way unsteadily to the men’s room. I did not find out the details until later but it seems that while he was in there Tuchek had a few words with a private. Seems that they were both standing at the urinal, Tuchek finished his business, zipped up and turned to leave when the Army private said: “Hey, where I come from, we wash our hands when we get done pissing.” To which Tuchek promptly answered: “Well where I come from, we learn not to piss on our hands!” The next thing I know, the door to the bathroom explodes outward as Tuchek and the private fly through it, locked in mortal combat, fists flaying the air! Well the battle lines were quickly drawn....Me and Tuchek vs. the entire population of the bar! We stood shoulder to shoulder and were working our way toward the door of the bar....bodies flying in every direction. I heard, over the din of battle, the distant bleat of whistles. I knew this meant the Shore Patrol (military police) were on the way in to arrest everybody. It was definitely time to make ourselves disappear! I grabbed Tuchek and pointed him toward the back exit and gave him a big shove. I was about to follow him when someone grabbed me hard by my shoulder and tried to yank me around. I didn’t think...hell I was too drunk to think. I just grabbed up a chair as I was turned and when I came around I planted the chair right across the face of my attacker. Did you know that, contrary to what you see in the movies, bar chairs do NOT break upon impact with the human face. I noticed this phenomenon instantly....then I noticed that the “attacker” was actually a Shore Patrolman with a billy club. I saw the big arm band with SP on it as he crumpled to the floor. I had just enough time to mutter: “Oh Shit!” before I was covered up with six more Shore Patrol weenies wielding their billy clubs on my head! I woke up in the brig. Tuchek was there. He had come back to help me....bad move on his part. We went before the commander of the base...what they called: Captain’s Mast. After finding out the details of the fight and the fact that we had been up against Army pukes and that the SP boys had not been our targets, the commander gave us a slap on the wrist and sent us back to our classes. Seems he didn’t care for the army any more than we did....LOL! So there ya go Winda....one of my alcohol-induced, misadventures....lord it was all so much fun when we were young! |
| The majority of people who read this blog also do a blog of their own; that is the nature of this site after all. So it occurred to me today to ask: What is it that you expect when you walk through the cyber-door and into the domain of my blog? Do you enter seeking light entertainment, funny stories and past remembrances? Do you, maybe walk in looking for enlightenment or otherwise serious discourse on the subject of world affairs, the plight of the human condition, or the price of tea in China? Maybe what I should be doing is asking myself: What is it I endeavour to accomplish with each of my entries? Do I try to entertain the reader and leave them laughing in the isles? Do I try, simply with the power of my sweet reason, to sway the reader to my own point of view on all things serious? Well, I do love to make folks laugh, and I always prefer them to be laughing at me and not someone else. Sometimes though the humor just escapes me. As for swaying others with the power of my reason....FAT CHANCE. I am no where near smart enough to ever aspire to that lofty goal. Besides, I don't know that many three syllable words! So what a reader gets when he walks through the door of my blog is exactly what the title says: Pieces of Me, sometimes silly, sometimes serious and rarely deep enough to drown in so no life-jacket required. So for the 15,000 or so who have thus far viewed this blog....I thank you. I hope I have entertained you and on occasion, made you think a bit....what more could I ask for? As for today though...well...there is just nothing funny in me. Lucky you, even though I have had thoughts on serious matters, I just don't have the energy to expound upon the themes. I guess that today, when you walk through this particular door, this is all you get. No words of wisdom, no jokes....just me and I am too tired to type anymore...maybe tomorrow or the next day. Just knock and come on in, there always seems to be someone home. |
| Have you ever wondered what a caged bird thinks about? Well a few minutes ago I thought about that. I was sitting here at the computer, reading blogs and it suddenly dawned on me....the damn bird is quiet. We have a Cockateil who lives in a cage which hangs in the dining room and he is seldom quiet. He has a thousand whistles and calls which he uses daily and almost constantly so it was a surprise to me, today when I realized he was not singing or whistling in his usual manner. I leaned back in my chair and looked into the dining room to check on him and he was just sitting silently in his cage, staring out through the bars. I wonder what he was looking at? What was he really seeing? Now first of all I have to tell you; to me, keeping a bird in a cage is just unnatural. He sits there day after day...all alone....what does that do to an animal whose natural tendency is to soar upon the wind. That loss of freedom just bothers me somehow. What was the bird thinking? Had his confinement finally gotten to him and he was now lost in a world of his memory? Was he remembering the feeling of the wind as it streamed across his outspread wings while he soared above the green canopy of the South American rain forest? Maybe he was seeing once again that cute little bird that he had shared some good times with. Perhaps, before his capture, he had planned on settling down with her and making a nest...who knows. Now she is only a ghost of his past, flying only in his memory. I gave him a whistle he normally loves to mimic but he merely looked through me as if I were not there. I toyed with the notion of going over to the cage and opening his door. I wonder what he would have done. Would he have sprung through the opening and took flight in a last ditch effort to regain his lost freedom or would he have stood there and stared stupidly, not recognizing the opportunity when he had it? I almost did it. I got up and opened the back door then stood there at the cage with my hand poised on the cage door. The bird just stared at me without moving. Was he silently willing me to open the door or had he sunk so far into the memories of the past, that he no longer even saw me....I don't know. Suddenly the spell was broken. He jerked his head around as if coming awake from a dream and he hopped up on his perch and gave out with a low whistle. I laughed and answered his whistle then he broke into his repertoire of musical notes.....all was normal again. I came back over to the computer and sit down and began to think about what had just occurred. I struck me then that the bird was a lot like some people I have known. They live in cages constructed from their own fears, their own phobias. They live restricted lives and sometimes dream of how it was when they could soar free, before all the trouble assailed them. Like the bird, I wonder if some of those people would ever really take the opportunity to escape their cage and soar free again, or would they be too afraid to leave what was now a comfortable existence. Cages, whether they be made of metal by strangers or be the product of our own mind, are bad. Man was not meant to live in such cages any more than birds are. |
| As most of you know, I write quite often in this space about the idiots I come in contact with on a daily basis at work. Well I have a confession to make; I actually LIKE 80% of my customers. I guess it is the 20% that make life interesting and gives me grist for my writing mill. I guess I got to thinking about this today because we had some company at the store. Some big wig from home office and his "posse" dropped in for a little impromptu fact finding tour. I think there is some kind of rule that says the home office weenies have to actually LEAVE their office at least once every three months and spend time in a real store, around real people. It must suck for them, having to rub shoulders with the unwashed masses like that....life is tough. Well today one of the aforementioned "posse", which in reality is just a group of fawning underlings who acts as eyes and ears for their master, happened to stop at my door to "observe" while I did my job. He was nice. He gave me his best fake smile and firmest limp-wrist handshake and was even able to hold said smile when I asked him to move over a bit and not get in the customer's way as they entered the store....I was proud of him! Anyway, as he stood there and as people were filing through the door, I began to notice for the first time that about every third or fourth person through the door greeted my by name...without looking at the badge. I returned the greetings, I waved and I shook a few hands, stopping every now and again to inquire about the health of this one or another as they boarded one of my electric carts. The company lackey sidled up next to me and asked: "Do your customers always greet you like this?" I hadn't really thought about it but.....yeah, they do. I told him this and he was curious. Seems, according to him, none of the other stores they had visited could boast of such close interaction between workers and customers. I shrugged and told him that maybe the other greeters needed a change of attitude. "How so?" He asked me. "Well, what I do is I never say: 'Welcome to Wal-Mart', like they tell you to do in the training." "Why not?" "Simple. These are country folks and they can smell phony a mile off. If I were to merely repeat that phrase mindlessly they would know that it meant nothing. Instead I greet them the very same as I would if they were walking up my sidewalk to my front door for a visit. I tell them: 'Good morning' or 'Hi, Good to see you!' If I know their name I use it. It is simple really." As we were talking, we were suddenly interrupted by a loud voice. "MORNING, NEIGHBOR!" The speaker was a man in his late sixties who leaned heavily on a cane. "Morning, Captain," I called back to him. "Mind iffin I use one of your carts today," he said. "My dang back is acting up." "No problem," I answered. After the man had taken his cart and made his way into the store, the lackey asked me: "Is he really your neighbor?" "Oh hell no. I only see him in here, and before you ask....NO, he ain't no captain either. He just likes it when I call him that." Well anyway, lackey scribbled in his little notebook for a moment or two then excused himself to go catch up with his boss....there was probably a boot that needed licking or something. I have no idea what he was writing down. Who knows, maybe he had a new idea for a commercial or something....whatever. Bottom line is he made me realize just how lucky I am to have a job where I get to meet people and make friends and I have made quite a few it seems. The whole episode served to brighten my day. Yeah, I still have to deal with idiots and fools with no manners but what the hell, it really isn't that bad. Oh and speaking of my customers....Last week I was standing at my door, minding my own business, when I was approached by this little old man...must have been in his eighties or older. He had to use a walker to walk and was fairly unsteady on his feet even with the walker. He teetered over to where I stood and just struck up a conversation. It happens a lot. I guess they think I have nothing to do but listen to their stories. Well this old man looks at me and says.... "Ya know, sonny, I use to work at Wal-Mart, back in the Delhi." He had that high pitched voice the elderly sometimes have. "Is that right," I said, only half listening as I handed carts to other customers. "Yessirree," he replied. "But the Bastards fired me after only ONE day!" I laughed out loud at this. "What the heck did you do to get fired after one day?" "I caught my finger in the meat slicer." He told me. "OUCH! That must have hurt, but why fire you over that?" "I don't know," he said with a grin. "Not only did they fire me, but they fired HER too!" I closed my eyes and hung my head....I had just been HAD. The old codger had reeled me in hook, line and sinker. I had to smile then. As he walked away from me, he was laughing his head off and I wondered how many people he had pulled that old gag on. Yup, my customers can make life interesting sometimes. |
| The greatest day in any person's life is, of course, their first day of life; that wonderful day when each of us comes kicking and screaming, wet and bloody, into this wide world. Even if we live to be a hundred years old, no other day in our lives will be so rich with promise than that first one. We begin with a completely clean slate and each and every one of us comes with the genetic imprint to accomplish anything in this world. We are nothing more than a small bundle of vast potential. The world is standing all around us, waiting for each of us to sail forth and make our mark upon it and that first day there is no one yet to nay say or caution you with a negative opinion. Yes, that first day is a platform from which each human can concievably launch themselves into a successful life. In contrast, the very worst day in a human being's life is without a doubt, the last day. That final sunset, that final heartbeat that each of us must one day experience is the worst day not just because we have to experience death, but because we must face the knowledge that there will be no more chances to get it right. On that last day all possibilities that have lain before us for so many years, comes to an end. To know that the race has ended, the string has run out, and the road has been traveled to its completion and there will be no more chances to make things right, has got to be the saddest day of all. Now in between the best day of your life and the worse day is the time I like to call: The Time of the Possible. All the days between our first and our last, is full of all kinds of possibilities. Yes, each day after the first day as you journey down your own road, there will be a growing crowd of onlookers. Some will cheer you onward while some, even though they love you, will be there to throw roadblocks in your path; to keep you from attaining all that is possible for you to accomplish. It is how you travel that road of life, how you keep striving to attain all of the "Possibles" in spite of those roadblocks, that you will be judged. As for myself, well I am far down that road; so far I can almost see the finish line. I have stumbled, I have fallen many, many times but I have always managed to get back up and keep moving forward. Even though I have kept going, I can tell you with all honesty that when that last day is upon me, I am afraid I will look back at a lot of Possibilities that I missed. That's okay, because even on that last day I will know a certain pride that I never laid down and quit...I stayed the course. I have, in my life, failed at far more than I have ever succeeded in doing and I am honest enough to admit that to the world. I will also tell you that every bad thing that ever happened to me, I was at least partially responsible for. As for the rest of you...especially those of you who are still young....What I am trying to tell you is that between that first wonderful day of your life and the last day, you will be surrounded by a world of Possibilities. No matter what happens to you, no matter how others try to dissuade you.....keep going, keep striving to attain all the things that are so clearly possible for you in this wide wonderful world. That is the perfect way to take all the sting out of that last day. Write on! Be the author you dream of being. |
| As most of you know, I mainly write about fun and funny things in this blog and rarely delve into political subjects...my beliefs are my own and I don't share them lightly. The following entry is the exception to the rule. Some days you just have to let the crap fly and say what you believe...this is one of those days. I know that very few on this site will agree with me and that's okay....this is what the title of this blog emplies: Pieces of Me..this is one of those pieces. So if you don't want to be upset do not read any further. I will not debate any of these issues so don't expect me to argue the points with you. This is just me...take it or leave it, it's all the same to me. America is dying a slow death; a death from the inside out. What, you ask, is the nature of the decease which ails this country? It is a soft rot that has eaten away at the very core of the nation and is spreading to all aspects of our lives. It has spread to such an extent that our fathers and our grandfathers would no longer recognize this place as the same America which they knew. Our national courage, our morals, our very pride of self has been eaten away by this rot of softness; like an insidious cancer, leaving the population mere shadows of what we once were. Let me give you some examples: 1. Foreign Affairs..... Iraq is a wonderful example. “Okay everyone, we are going to war but for God’s sake don’t kill anyone and do be careful of the enemy’s civil rights.” Uh? It is a war, people, not a square dance. In war there is only winning and losing, life or death. If this country does not have the intestinal fortitude to fight this war by the same rules as World War Two was fought, then they should get the hell out now. In WW2 they thought little of inflicting over 100,000 casualties upon the city of Dresden in one bombing raid. Today if even one non-combatant catches a stray round or gets caught in a bombing raid, soldiers get court-martialed. Did you know that today, if some Apache pilot, on a night flight, comes upon a large group of armed, enemy soldiers, he must first call his commander who then has to call Washington so that some political hack can decided whether shooting up this group will be politically safe to do. If the damn politician wants to make that call then we should put his ass on the front line with a rifle and let him make it then! Personally I believe that as soon as we captured Saddam, we should have turned him over to his country men and exited the country without a backward glance. Then we should have sent all those troops over to Afghanistan to fight the real enemy. That is where they should have been in the first place. If, on the other hand, we decided not to send them to Afghanistan, then we should have brought them all home and spread them along our borders and shut those down completely. Once our borders were secure, then we should have sent the UN packing. I hear France has some nice real estate they might set aside for this august body. Besides, I really think they would be more at home there than here. In short folks I think we should adopt the philosophy of American Interest First. Since the rest of the world sees us as nothing more than greedy, self-centered bullies who they only want around when they themselves are in trouble, then let’s live up to the billing and take care of this country first. 2. Domestic Affairs.....Okay let’s say, just for giggles, all that has happened and we have brought our troops home and we are no longer at war. Now let’s try cleaning up our own house, shall we. First off, if you are not a citizen of this country and you are here illegally, then you should either be made to leave or made to go through the proper steps to gain citizenship. English is the official language of this country so let’s stop spending millions of dollars to educate children in ANOTHER language. Teach them English then let them enter our schools. I wonder how far I would get if I moved to Mexico city and demanded that my children had English speaking teachers in their schools cause they don’t speak Spanish? Not very damn far. Next, oh and you will love this one......Ration gas until such time as we are no longer dependant upon foreign oil. Yup, tighten up the belts, do without, do less travel and let’s solve this damn problem. I bet you dollars to donuts that a viable alternative to gasoline will be found rather quickly if we all had to do without for awhile. While we are rationing and doing without, let’s bring back the old WPA which was started as a part of the New Deal back in 1935. This program gave those without work, a job. Once that is in place and every ABLE BODIED person is working, then we should cut food stamps back to only the elderly and those too ill to work. There is more we could do, like revamping the penal system, but this is getting too long as it is. The sad fact is, none of these suggestions will ever happen and there is one simple reason for that.....That soft rot has taken to big a hold on the population of this country. We are too soft to fight a war the way it should be fought. We are too soft to make sacrifices at home to rid ourselves of the dependency on foreign oil. We are too soft to enact laws which would discomfort ANYONE even when they don’t deserve special treatment. We are too soft to admit the difference between what we are entitled to and what is a privilege. We are entitled to, as the constitution says, “The pursuit of happiness”. It does not mean we are Guaranteed that happiness...we have to earn it. So now the Soft Rot has won and I see this country going the way of Rome of long ago. We will sink under the weight of our own decease and the Welfare State will simply drain our courage and will. America will become a mere footnote in history, a sad cautionary tale which one day, a few hundred years from now, someone in another country who is facing the same problems, will point to and wonder how their own nation can avoid the same fate. Have a wonderful weekend and don’t forget to fill up those SUVs ! |
| Because I now live in the town I grew up in, and I work in a very public place, it is not unusual for me to run into folks who I grew up with; it is a small town after all. Well, about three weeks ago an old friend came into the store and of course he stopped to visit with me a bit. His name is Dennis and I still call him that although his official title is Chief of Police and most call him "Chief". To me, though, he will always be Dennis, one of me and Mongo's running buddies. Dennis informed me that he had been going through a bunch of old pictures the night before and he had come across one of a group of us taken just before we had our little "Adventure in Flight". He was laughing as he told me about that picture. "You know, Mac, we looked just like four members of a Colombian Cartel about to take off on a damn drug run," he said with a smile. We laughed as we both remembered that fateful day then Dennis took his leave, promising to try and remember to bring me the picture so I could make a copy of it. After he left, I got to thinking about that particular little adventure and of course I figured it would make a good blog entry so now I will share the sordid story with you all so that you can truly understand what life with Mongo was really like...... ************************************************* It was in the late 70's that it happened. Like all the misadventures I have ever had with Mongo, it started out innocent enough; I got a phone call. "Yo, Bro," Mongo's voice sounded like the warning klaxon that must have sounded on the sinking Titanic, "you wanna have some fun?" I should have known better when he said that. Never before, in the history of the world, has there ever been five more sinister words spoken in any language than "You wanna have some fun" when spoken by Mongo. Lord knows I had heard this phrase spoken by him many times before and the outcome is always the same.... 1. I end up having to change my name. 2. Move to a different state 3. Spend weeks recovering from various wounds. 4. Pay a hefty fine. 5. Turn State's Evidence and go into the Witness Protection Program. So why do I always say: "Sure. What you got in mind?" Stupid....that has to be the answer. Just plain, down-home, STUPID! So after falling into the Stupid Trap and saying yes, I belatedly ask Mongo what he had going on. "Well bro, my ole buddy Billy D. just flew into town and wants us to go for a "ride" with him? "Billy D., heck, I thought he was on some commune in California, living inside a pipe of Hashish." "Naw, he has cleaned up his act and been going to school." "Uh...what kind of school would accept that pot-head?" Already this was turning strange, even by Mongo standards. Billy D was one weird puppy back then. Think the Donald Sutherland character in Kelly's Heroes, the hippy tank driver. "Flight school," Mongo said calmly. THUD! "This, I gotta see," I told him. Now if "You wanna have some fun?" are the five most sinister words in the human language, then "This I gotta see" are the four MOST STUPID WORDS EVER SPOKEN. But somehow I always manage to utter them at the most inopportune moments....Like whenever I talk to Mongo. So it was arranged. Mongo would pick up Dennis and then swing by my place. Soon all three of us were headed out to the small landing strip that passed itself off as the Livingston Municipal Airport. Some airport, one short dirt landing strip and a rundown hangar! Sure nuff, as we pulled up to the hangar, there stood Billy D next to this shabby, rickety looking old four-seater single engine airplane. He greeted us as we climbed out of Mongo's truck. "Groovy man, ready to get high?" Dennis and I turned to get back in the truck. "No man, I mean you ready to fly," Billy called to us. "I got good vibes about today man, it's gonna be far out!" Well Dennis and I decided that even if we shot the fool, there was no way we could hide the plane so we might as well go along. Mongo, of course was all excited about the prospects of flying. "It's going to be a blast," he told us. "We can take off, fly a few circuits of the lake and then zip right back here, safe and sound." Dennis and I looked at each other. We both knew we did not have suitable alibis established if Billy and Mongo both disappeared so we might as well not shoot Mongo either. With a sigh we boarded the plane. I sit up front with Billy while Mongo and Dennis took the two back seats. I wanted the co-pilot seat because I had done some flying with another friend who had taught me some "Touch-and-go" practice landing. I figured if worse comes to worse, I might be able to get the plane on the ground again. To make matters worse, I had brought my high-dollar, 35mm camera with me in order to get some Aeriel shots of the lake...that turned out to be the worse thing I could do. Anyway, Billy got us loaded in the plane then he sat down in the pilot's seat and fired up the plane's engine. I guess we should have been clued in when he took out his "How to Fly a Plane" manual and re-read the "take off" section to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. Down the runway we roared and then up into the air we soared...like a wounded buzzard. In no time at all we were cruising at about 800 feet with the sparkling, blue waters of Lake Livingston spread out below us. 84,000 acres of water and we were not in a seaplane....yeah, I was sweating. Everything was going fairly well at this point. Mongo was crowing about how Dennis and I were a bunch of sissies for being worried. He was laughing and cracking jokes. Dennis was beginning to get some actual color back in his face and Billy was busy grooving to whatever music he heard constantly in his own head....I told you the dude was weird. As we flew along the shoreline, I noticed we were coming up on a large marina with boats of all sizes lined up at its docks. It would have made a great shot but with the angle of the plane, I was unable to get a clear line of sight for the camera. Unfortunately I mentioned this to Billy. "No problem man," he said in that weirdly disembodied voice of someone on a permanent high. "Just lower the window and I will take care of it." The dang window took up more than half the door. Silly me, I lowered the window and felt the rush of wind from the outside of the plane. I was just about to ask: "What now?" when ole Billy yanked the yoke to the right and stood the plane on its right wing! Suddenly I was HANGING HALF OUT THE PLANE! I had a death grip on the camera and was madly snapping the shutter out of pure reflex. Because of the noise of the slip-stream, I could barely make out Mongo screaming in the back of the plane: "FOR GOD'S SAKE, DON'T LET HIM FALL BILLY. HE OWES ME TWENTY DOLLARS!" Well Billy's one remaining, unfried, brain cell finally kicked in and he managed to right the plane which brought me thudding back into my seat. I turned to Billy and spoke in a low, calm voice: "Billy, can you flap your arms and fly?" He got this big silly grin on his face and said: "No, man, that's the weirdest thing I ever heard of." "Well if you can't, then I suggest you get this *$&^#& plane down on the ground cause you are about to have to try." The silly grin disappeared and Billy pointed the plane back to the airport real quick. We flew in silence the rest of the way. No doubt, Billy was silently bemoaning the fact that he had no parachute. When we got to the airfield he started his approach and I noticed that the air-sock at the end of the field was standing straight out....meaning a strong cross-wind. I then noticed that Billy was coming in slow and directly in the middle of the strip....bad move. "CROSS WIND!" I yelled at him. "Allow for the wind, move right!" He didn't, and when we were a mere ten feet off the ground the strip suddenly disappeared to be replaced by grass! The wind had blown the light plane off line with the strip! In the next few seconds a number of things happened all at once. First my ears were assaulted by a high pitched, girly scream from Mongo who had just voided his bowels as he threw his arms around poor Dennis who promptly fainted from both fright and the smell coming from Mongo's pants. Then, just as I was reaching to take the controls and right our course, Billy either flinched right, or that overworked single brain cell kicked in again. He swerved the plane hard and we hit the runway.....sideways...bounced....then came to a stop in one piece. Just like that...BAM....it was over. We staggered out of the plane and three of us headed for the truck. Dennis, who had revived enough to help Mongo into the back (I wasn't gonna ride with him in the cab, smelling like he did). As we made for the truck I turned to Billy who was standing innocently by his plane. "Dude, I got a gun in that truck....just saying..." By the time I reached Mongo's truck, Billy was already rolling back down the strip and was once more airborne. That damn single brain cell of his had a workout that day! ******************************************* So that was our big adventure in the flying machine. You see now the kind of crap my brother gets me into? Well all is well that ends well I guess. Dennis went on to survive and become the chief of police in our town, Mongo is coaching and teaching in a small town in Northeast Texas who must have been desperate for faculty and believe it or not Billy went on to land a job flying for a major American airline company...think about that next time you book a flight to grandma's for a vacation! And me? Well I too survived and have found a nice niche here just living life and sometimes writing about it.....Mongo has been a great source of Material through the years if nothing else. |
| Today's entry is on a subject near and dear to my heart; my wife Melinda. For those of you who have not read her blog today, you really need to read "Invalid Entry" . The thing is, this is not an out-of-the-ordinary event for our household. Ever since I have known Mel she has been an "Animal Magnet". All animals, great and small gravitate to her. I have kidded her many times about being the "Mother Theresa" for the animal world and I was only half kidding. I have grown accustomed to finding hurt, lost and abandoned animals on our door step. They seem to somehow just KNOW that within the confines of this particular house, lives a woman who understands them, will move heaven and earth to help them, and has a heart big enough so that each will have a place there. It's not just dogs and cats either. I am never surprised to find raccoons and possums, squirrels, and birds of all kinds making their way to our door. She will love and care for them all. The wild animals are even more amazing than those of the domestic variety. This country boy never looked at a deer, rabbit, or squirrel as nothing more than food for the table and the animals knew this and never got close. But, with Mel the story is quite different. I have seen deer stand and graze while she walked close to them and they never got alarmed and would not run. I have to constantly chide her for her habit of catching everything from rattlesnakes to copperheads and moving them off the road and out of danger. She knows no fear of any creature and that is just alien to me. Mel's loving spirit extends to humans as well. I have watched her interact with total strangers before and have seen them open up to her and within moments of meeting her they are telling her their life story! I think it is because of the way she listens to them. You can see it in her face...when a person is talking to her, no matter what they are telling her she is listening with an open mind and heart. You can see the total concentration on her face as she focuses solely on what someone is saying. Not only does she listen, but she HEARS....Empathy, that's the word I am searching for. She has this deep empathy with animals and people alike and both just automatically trust her. I will be the first to admit that when we met I was a cold hearted, pragmatic, SOB and not at all likable. Over the past six years she has changed me, showed me how to FEEL, how to care. I still don't know how she managed that one. There is one exception to the rule though, one type of person who can bring my angel to wrath and that is anyone who abuses an animal...wild or otherwise. If you read her latest entry, you know that the dog she talked about was abused by someone. What she didn't tell you is that on her way to the shelter with the dog, she stopped at Walmart. She pulled up in front of the door where I was standing and motioned me to come out. I ran out, not knowing what was wrong and when I got to the car I saw that she had the poor animal in the backseat. I looked at my baby's face, eyes swollen from crying, and tears running freely down her cheeks as she sobbed out the story of what all she had found wrong with the dog. I could see it in her eyes then....the frank ability AND the need to do bodily harm to whoever had hurt this animal. One look in those blue eyes was all I needed to know that if she ever found that person, I was going to have to bail her out of jail. So that's my baby. If you are of the four legged, furry variety, she will be your unconditional champion, if you are a human who is hurting and needs someone to listen, she will be there for you one hundred percent. If, however you are one who causes pain to any one of the above....she will be your worse nightmare. Damn I love this woman! |
| I would like to take a moment and thank all my friends here on WDC who so succinctly expressed their heartfelt sympathies for my minor mishap with Time the other day....I know who you are and payback is in order! HA! I was also quite shocked to see that my ner-do-well brother, Mongo slithered into Blogville and left a few pithy remarks in the comment section. What shocked me most was not the fact that he read my blog, but rather that he actually WROTE a comment. He must have had his wife help him with that. I also read where he threatened to tell some tales out of school, so to speak. He even mentioned that whole "Stump-breaking livestock thing. Well I gotta tell you, he would have been doing the same thing but we were never able to find a stump big enough to hold him owning to the fact that we did not live in giant Redwood country! Now Mongo has threatened to tell you folks some unsavory and completely fabricated stories. The thing is, he could tell you some TRUE ones if he wanted to implicate himself, that is. Such as...... 1. How about the "Jolly Fox" story there brother? 2. Or how about telling them of the giant fishing party YOU planned to Texhoma when the whole lake "Turned Over". 3. Then there is always the tale of our trip through the Big Thicket when you dropped my high dollar 35mm camera to the bottom of that creek! 4. Failing those, you could resort to telling them about that ill-fated three-wheeler cart race you forced me into.....remember that one Mr. Put-Your-Brother-In-The-Cheap-Seats? 5. Oh and what about the Great Quail Hunt and Truck Burning? Now around here, Mongo we go on the List of 5 theory so I will leave you with those suggestions. As for myself....well Friday I plan on telling them the classic of all times. Maybe the title will refresh your memory: Those Crazed Young Men in Their Flying Machines!! HA! I bet that one will bring back memories for you, ya dang WHACKO! I think I will sign off now and just let you THINK about that little story. It's been awhile since big brother has "spanked" you, so to speak....this should be fun. |
| Well it is absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, positively, certain...I am OLD! There, I've admitted it and I am, forthwith, turning in my "Young Stud" membership card and am discontinuing the payment of dues to that particular union. It has finally been hammered home to me that I am not the same man I once was...hell, I'm not even close. I shall now pull up a rocking-chair, sit on my porch, and throw rocks at all the young people foolish enough to come into range! Some of you may be asking yourself: "What brought on this extreme change of attitude in our Tor?" Of course, SOME of you may have already read the somewhat slanderous account written in my dear wife's blog and if there are some who haven't read that rag yet....here is the dang link. Go read it and I will wait for you to catch up! "Invalid Entry" Okay...all done now? Well let me just tell you...Mel was NOT telling the whole dang story. In the interest of fair and balanced reporting, I would like to give you MY version of the sordid series of events which transpired yesterday. Yes, it is true that my daughter Melissa, her fiance Jason, and Jason's daughter Paula were coming that day to visit and meet Time. Yes, it is also true that Mel and I got there early so that she could groom Time, feed her, and put her through some light exercise before our company arrived. But here, dear readers, our story diverge onto different paths. You see, what really happened was this.... I stood back and watched as Mel did her thing with Time. I only stepped forward after her grooming in order to feed her a couple apples for a treat...the ungrateful wench! Well after she had gorged herself on my apples, Time allowed Mel to put the halter on her and the long lead rope then trot her in a circle for some exercise. Again...I merely stood by as an innocent observer. After the exercise session was done with Mel walked Time over to where I stood, MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS, and very innocently said: "Hey honey, do you want to climb up on her back and get her use to being rode again?" I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. I never had a chance. Mel KNEW what would happen when she said that to me. She KNEW that Capt. Stupid was about to take the helm of my brain and lead me, once more, down the garden path to pain. Sure enough....Capt. Stupid grabbed command of my brain and before I could react I found myself saying: "You bet I do, babe. Bring her on over here!" Yup, that was Capt. Stupid talking up there. He was telling me: "Hell boy you use to ride bareback all day long, so how hard could this be." Of course he had to shout this out in my head because of all the damn warning klaxons and horns that were sounding at the same time....my body was trying to warn me. I did manage to fight the urge a little, I admitted that, unlike back in the day, I didn't think I would be able to just grab some mane and swing up onto her back now. Did Mel take the hint? Oh hell no. Instead of arguing against going on, she suggested that she could lead Time over to this dang stump and I could use that to climb up on her much easier. Looking back on it now, I realize that she was behind this whole scheme....yeah, that's right, Mel is evil and she knew what she was doing when she MADE me go stupid one more time. So there I was....ignoring the warning bells and whistles and being guided over to that damn stump by Capt. Stupid. Before I knew it, I was standing on that stump and waiting for Mel to lead Time over to me. Funny, now that I think about it, I remember how she was grinning as she led the horse over to me...go figure. Once Time was in position, Capt. Stupid gave the final order: "CHARGE!" So, that is when I found myself throwing a leg over Time's back and as my ass hit her spine my world EXPLODED! The next thing I know I am in mid-air and I had that one moment, that split-second where the seconds froze and I had enough time to realize what had happened and all I could think was: "Shit, this ain't gonna be pretty!" SPLAT! I was right. I hit the ground looking, for all the world, like Wile E. Coyote hitting the ground after falling from one of those high cliffs on the cartoon. Capt. Stupid immediately fled the scene to be replaced by Capt. Common Sense who said: "Well That was about the dumbest thing you have ever done!" I couldn't argue with that one. In fact I couldn't argue at all, the breath was gone from my body; replaced by this huge ball of burning pain radiating out from my back and my ass. Mel came walking up to where I lay, leading Time who was plodding serenely by her side and SHE WAS GIGGLING LIKE A DAMN SCHOOL GIRL! Even Time let out a dang snicker and snort, like she was laughing too. "Are you okay honey?" I was underwhelmed by the note of concern in her voice. "Just go away," I wheezed. "Take that @#$%# horse and take a walk!" "Okie-dokey," she said lightly and she turned and let Time toward the back of the pasture and as she went out of sight, I could still hear her dang giggling and she as petting Time and giving her extra treats too!!!! So you see...it was not my fault. It was an evil woman, an even more evil female HORSE, and of course....Capt. Stupid who are all to blame for this final indignation to my person. If you need anymore evidence that this was a premeditated plan on Mel's part, I give you what has transpired since the incident: Mel not only has blogged about the thing, but she has burned up the phone lines, spreading the word of my latest misadventure. She called her sister, her mother, my BROTHER MONGO, and every damn relative down to third cousins, twice removed in my family and her's!!! I swear, if Jerry Lewis still got this many laughs, he would still be doing movies!! I have ben getting calls from people I haven't talked to in years and getting to hear them laugh themselves sick at my expense!!! So that's it! Capt. Stupid has been formally relieved of command and banished to some other idiot. From now on I am strictly listening to Capt. Common Sense and I am going to act my damn age! Hell I'm even gonna give up flirting....I'M AN OLD MAN!! There, I said it. Now go away and let me break in this new rocking chair...maybe THIS damn thing won't throw my ass off! |
| Ah, Saturday morning is magical. I am off work until Monday, that's a good thing, and just for a moment the house is quiet. Yes, I have achieved something that is a rariety around my house...peace and quiet. No animals. For those of you who are relatively new to Blogville, I would like to take a moment and introduce you to the animals who who own this house and who merely allow Mel and myself to live here rent-free as long as we furnish them with food and whatever other creature comforts they deem necessary. First of all there are the dogs, Mollie and Sherman. Mollie..... is a caloricily challenged, Black Lab. She tips the scales at close to one hundred pounds and looks, for all the world, like a giant, black, basketball with four tiny feet. I don't think Mollie has really tasted her food in years...she simply SWALLOWS it. If the Hoover company could ever replicate her eating habits, they would develop the world's strongest vacum cleaner. Mollie's main claim to fame is that she is desperately afraid of thunder and lightning. When she was young and smaller than a dump truck, she use to run and hide under our bed when a storm came. Now, however she is too big to fit under the bed without help. This means that during a storm we have to lift one side of the bed up so she can get under it, then we have to sleep on a sharp incline because the bed is at a 45 degree angle. Sherman......is our Yellow Lab. Of course because he is still a puppy, his coat is mainly white and not yellow at all. Sherman is not pure blooded Lab, but is a mix of Lab and Bloodhound, of all things and he is close to a hundred pounds himself. Unlike Mollie though, Sherman is not fat, he is just one big, muscular, DUMB dog. Yes, that's right, I said "Dumb". If Sherman was human, he would be riding the "short" bus to school each day. Poor Sherman thinks that every creature was put on this earth just to be his best buddy and play with him. This has caused him to take quite a few arse whoopings from the local cat population when he has tried to socially interact with them. Cats? Let me introduce them to you now. Smoke....He is the only one who will play with Sherman. He does this because he is probably more brain-damaged than the dog...he actually thinks of himself as a dog and not a cat at all. He will have nothing to do with other cats. He plays with the dogs, eats with the dogs, and sleeps with the dogs. He just happens to be shorter, furrier, and unable to bark. Little Shit.....Yeah, that's her name and by God, she lives up to it. She is a calico cat that delights in whipping both dog's butts at any opportunity. She also is a world champion at getting into things we try to keep out of reach of the animals. Her greatest joy in life is to knock something off the entertainment center and then watching as Sherman, the big dummy, grabs it and chews it up. Then of course we find it and scold poor Sherman for the misdeed. That just makes Little Shit's day! Twister....Poor twister is low man on the cat totom-pole. All the other cats pick on her. She can't see well, she has sizures and when she walks, her back end twists back and forth as if out of sync with the rest of her body...thus the name. Goober ....She is the grand dame of the cats around here. She is the oldest and at the top of the pecking order. As such, she feels that she personally OWNS the two humans of the house. Whenever I am sitting at the computer, working on a story or doing a blog, she will hop up on the desk, walk over to the keyboard, and hook a claw into my arm. She then pulls my hand off the key board and brings it over to her head....SHE DEMANDS PETTING TIME!!! The Bird....It's a damn Cockatiel and it has a name but I just realized that I don't remember its name. That is because I spend all my time yelling: "SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU STUPID BIRD!" I do this because the damn bird can't talk but he can make noises. In fact this bird can perfectly mimic the sounds of downtown New York City at rush hour, and he does it almost continuiously during the day when I am home. If he could talk I am sure that by now he would be saying: "SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU STUPID HUMAN!"...go figure. Fish.....I just group these all together because, even though Mel has named each and every one of them, I refuse to acknowledge those names...THEY'RE FISH FOR GOD'S SAKE! YOU DON'T NAME FISH! Well you don't name them when you have vast schools of them swimming around in tanks all over the dang house...that's what I have. Hell, we could replinish one of the Earth's smaller seas if we ever were to turn them all loose at once. Lucky.....That's what I have named the latest edition to the "family". He is a Gerbil and what else would you name a damn rat that is brought home to live with four cats!!! Well I think that just about covers all Mel's little babies. Four cats, two dogs, one bird, ten thousand fish, and a Gerbil. I don't include the horse in this inventory because Time resides in a pasture a mile from the house....good horse. So, I know you are wondering....How the hell can the house be quiet right now with all these animals in residence? Easy. Mel is over at the pasture spending quality time with her horse so I made a few "changes". I threw both dogs outside, then I took the bird and put him in the spare bedroom with the Gerbil and let them both out of their cages. I then gathered up all four cats and threw them into the SAME spare room as the Gerbil and the bird.....this should be interesting! As for the fish...well they don't really make any noise so I didn't have to do anything to them just yet....did I mention...I am going to have A FISH FRY this afternoon! Of course, the down side of this is that I am going to have to spend some time coming up with a good cover story to explain the missing Gerbil and bird and why the cats are locked in the spare room, and why the dogs are still outside...during the thunderstorm. Gotta be a good story, one Mel will believe. I know, I'm just gonna blame it all on CC. Yup, she ought to believe that. Just in case she don't buy it though, you might not see me around Blogville for a few weeks. Depends on how long it takes broken bones to heal.  |
| You people got really lucky today. I am not doing a blog entry but I want to draw your attention to the fact that my sweetie, Mel aka Mrs Tor did her own blog today. I really would love it if you could go over and read her latest entry: "Invalid Entry" . By doing this, you will...(a) know what is at the forefront of our lives right now, and (b) you will also be able to leave her a word of thanks for saving you from reading one of my entries. You will also see who REALLY has the writing talent in this family....my girl. |
| The other day I received a rather interesting e-mail from a complete stranger. Now, under normal circumstances I would not even bother to open such an e-mail and, in defense of myself, I was not the one who opened it in the first place....Mel is the guilty party. You see I am bad about forgetting to check my Hotmail account and after a week or so Mel will go in and check it out for me just to see if there is something there I need to be aware of. Well, she opened the email and then she came and got me. “Oh you got to read this dang email you just received,” she told me. “Why? Is it from my kids, my friends, anyone I may distantly know?” “No.” “Okay.” *note: You see how easy I am to get along with? So I trudged into the living room and settled down at the computer to read the mysterious email....boy am I glad I did! I have to tell you, this thing really made my day, I was chuckling about it at work the rest of the day. Now I have to tell you, at heart, I am basically an honest guy. Oh yeah, back in the day, when I was young and crazy, I tippy-toed over the line a few times but nothing really bad. Of course, being the honest guy I am, besides not being an idiot, I never for a moment took this thing seriously, but I had to give the guy credit, he did put some effort into the scam. Well, you decide for yourself. Here is his email to me and my answer to him. Yes, that’s right, I could not resist myself and I fired off a reply to his “offer”. Enjoy. Reply FROM: Wang HongZhang People's Bank of China, Beijing I am Mr. Wang HongZhang, Chief Disciplinary Officer, People's Bank of China (PBC), 32 Chengfang street, Xi Cheng district, Beijing. I have an obscured business proposal for you. Before the U.S and Iraqi war,a client of Bank of China, Khazeal Hamood Hasaab a Merchant made a numbered fixed deposit valued at $24,500,000.00 (Twenty Four million Five Hundred Thousand United State Dollars), for 18 calendar months, at Bank of China, Tower Branch, 1 Garden Road Hong Kong. Upon maturity several notices were sent to him, even during the war which began in 2003. Again, after the war another notification was sent, but still no response came from him. It was later found out that Mr Khazeal Hamood Hasaab, his wife and two sons had been killed during the war. "javascript:ol('http://www.iraqbodycount.net/names.htm');" After further investigation, it was also discovered that Mr Khazeal did not declare any next of kin in his official papers, including the paperwork of his bank deposit. He also confided, in the Chief Risk Officer, Bank of China (BOCHK), that no one knew of his deposit in the bank. According to the laws of my country, at the expiration of 4years and 6 months such funds are reverted to the Peoples Bank Of China (PBC), where it will be deposited in the reserve of the Government, if nobody applies to claim it. Due to the fact that the fund has been in the bank for more than four years, provisions are being made for it to be reverted to my Bank (PBC). When the case was presented at my desk, I contacted the risk officer(BOCHK), who is a good friend of mine and gathered all the information that I have presented to you. Against this backdrop, I will like you, as a foreigner, to stand as next of kin to Khazeal Hamood Hasaab, so that we can receive his funds. WHAT IS TO BE DONE I want you to know that there is no risk involved. We have had everything planned out so that we shall come out successful. I have contacted an attorney who will prepare the necessary documentS that will back you up as the next of kin to Khazeal Hamood Hasaab. All that is required from you, at this stage is for you to provide me with your Full Names, private phone/fax and current residential address, so that the attorney can commence his job. After you have been made the next of kin, the attorney will also file for claims on your behalf and secure the necessary approval and letter of probate in your favour for the move of the funds to an account that will be provided by you. Please endeavour to observe utmost discretion in all matters concerning this issue. Should you be interested I shall provide you with more details on this operation. You can reach me with the email below. Your earliest response to this letter will be appreciated. Kind Regards, Wang HongZhang ****************************************** Dear Wang: As you can well imagine, I was amazed to receive your email. Wow, how lucky can a guy get to have been chosen from the millions of people with internet access to be a part of this fairly convoluted rectal massage of the Chinese laws. First though, I really have to ask you about that job title of yours; “ Chief Disciplinary Officer, People's Bank of China.” Disciplinary officer? Do you folks find it necessary, from time to time, to spank your currency? Just curious, sorry. Now, as for this plan of yours for me to claim this money. First of all who the hell was this Mr. Khazeal Hamood Hasaab ? I mean really....a merchant? What the heck did this guy sell that he amassed 24 million dollars, bullet-proof vests to Al-Quida? Anyway, let’s move on shall we. After all, as a stinking, running-dog, capitalist, I don’t really care where old Khazeal made his money. I do, however see a small problem with my holding up my end of this scheme...uh...plan of yours. How the hell is a middle-aged white boy from East Texas gonna pass himself off as next-of-kin to an Arab businessman? I mean, hell, for 24 million dollars I would be willing to wear a damn turban and give old Allah a try, but I’m afraid the densest of your government officials might question this particular fork in ole Khazeal’s family tree. Now if you happen to have an Italian or maybe a German, or Irish businessman who has recently kicked the bucket and left you boys some money in your bank, then I’m your man! As for sending you guys all my personal information...why that don’t bother me at all. I keep two or three different sets of identification documents for just such emergencies. I feel though that I would be an unwise choice for this opportunity. I know this must come as a terrible blow to you as you were probably counting on my being able to help you out and I feel terrible about that. I do, however have just the person you need. His name is ccstring and he could readily pass for kinfolk to Mr.Khazeal Hamood Hasaab. Hell, as far as that goes, ole CC could pass for Khazeal’s dead monkey....no problem. You don’t even have to contact CC yourself, I will email you tomorrow with his full name, address, Social Security number and any other ID you need. Heck, I will even throw in a copy of his shot record from the Vet. Respectfully yours D. McClain |
| This is not a normal blog entry for me...but then again....when did I ever do normal well? What I mean by "not a normal topic" is that I am not writing about history, current events, or even childhood memories. I just want to fill you in on the day I had today. Cue the band...drop the balloons!! Today Mel and I were lucky enough to have a nice long visit from Cassie Reynolds and her hubby, TeflonMike they brought their friend, Millie with them. Millie works with Cassie and all three were on their way to South Padre Island for a business meeting, having driven all the way from Florida.Now many of you old time bloggers will remember both Cassie and Mike for their own excellent blogs here on WDC. Cassie always had delightful entries dealing with her work, her children, and the friends in her hometown and Mike was the writer of some of the best stories from his childhood that I have seen on this site. If you get the chance, in fact, you should head on over to Mike's blog, dust off the cobwebs, and settle in for some very entertaining storytelling.
Never say I don't lend a helping hand...use da link! We took some pictures of the meeting but unfortunately, my dinosaur computer does not recognize my state-of-the-art digital, SLR camera, so I have no way to download said pictures for your enjoyment. Don't worry though, because Millie tooks some shots with their camera and I just know Cassie will share them with everyone at her first opportunity. You know what I love about meeting people I have grown to know via the Internet? I love the way they never disappoint me. Cassie and Mike are just the same in person as they appear to be online...warm, friendly, and fun-loving, down-home folk. We invaded a local restaurant after meeting up downtown at the courthouse and we spent a long time over a leisurely lunch. We laughed and swapped stories and generally made a nusance of ourselves. Afterwards, Mel and I took them all over to our place to introduce them to Mel's animal farm. We had coffee and continued the visit until finally they had to get back on the road to their destination. Meeting Mike, Cassie, and Millie was the highlight of our week, I gotta tell you and I wish everyone could get the chance to meet these fine folks. To be honest, the only surprise of the visit was Cassie's height....I never knew she was that short. But, then again, I never knew ANYONE that short! Let's put it this way...If Cassie got the chance to dance with Micky Rooney, she could wear six-inch stilettos and still rest her head on his shoulder as they tripped the light fantastic! OHHHHHH! I just know she is gonna bop me for that one, but I couldn't resist...SORRY CASSIE! HA! Okay, that does it for me....another beautiful, sun-drenched day spent getting to know friends from Blogville...IT JUST DON'T GET ANY BETTER THAN THIS! |
| You know, marriage is a wonderful institution. When done right, marriage can serve to keep a man physically and mentally tough...Think: continuous slamming of your hand in a car door will toughen you up.....Like that. I swear, my wife can get me into more "STUFF" than any other human on the face of the earth. We just got back from the pasture and a day spent with little odds and ends jobs getting ready for the arrival of Time Will Tell. She should be arriving by the 28th and we are ALMOST ready. Now you know men love to believe that they will be twenty forever, but some of us are lucky enough to have wives who delight in putting us in a position to learn the most valuable lesson that OUR BODIES AGE FASTER THAN OUR BRAIN! Today she allowed me to learn that lesson all over again. 1. Lesson #1 came when SHE decided that WE (meaning ME) needed to knock down a wall which bisected a large stall, making it into two smaller ones. "Honey, Time will need a bigger stall you know. Why can't you just take out the dividing wall and fix it for her. Well she didn't take into consideration that the dividing wall was made with treated timbers that could have been used to rebuild an exact replica of "Old Iron sides" the Revolutionary war ship! She also did not think about the fact that they used what must have been freaking RAILROAD SPIKES to nail said timbers to the braces! Two hours of swinging a damn Twelve pound sledge hammer like Micky Mantle trying for the home run record left me in a sweating, muscle-cramped, pile on the ground next to a rather large mound of shattered lumber. 2. Lesson #2 came when she noticed that two pieces of tin on the barn roof were loose and bent upward, thus letting rain inside. Of course the next job was ME, climbing a ten foot ladder to refasten the offending tin back to it's original position. Oh, wait, did I mention that the first piece was close to me, but the second piece was closer to the middle of the roof? So there I was, having done the first piece fairly easily, now stretching away from the safety of the ladder, extending my body over the top of the roof, reaching the full extension of my arms to ATTACH THE LAST PIECE OF TIN!!! Oh and did I mention that the only nails she brought for the job were 16 penny nails...twice the size needed for the tin. Every time I would strike them with the hammer they would just bounce off the tin. Well stretched out as I was on that last piece of tin, every muscle in my poor, overworked, overheated, and I have to admit....ELDERLY body was screaming in protest at the effort to remain balanced, while actually driving the damn nails. Of course, what would an adventure like this be had I not made a small miscue on the last nail....missed it altogether, and drove my thumb through the tin and into the damn brace!!!!! I emitted a stream of curses that would have shamed a drunken sailor! The grass around the bottom of the ladder actually died and turned brown from the virulent words I screamed. You know what made it worse? Mel stood at the foot of the ladder and calmly announced: "You know, you really should be more careful with that hammer. Want me to do it for you?" "WHAT? DO IT FOR ME? HELL WOMAN, IT'S DONE NOW, MY THUMB SHOULD HOLD THIS LAST PIECE OF TIN JUST FINE!!" "Well there's no use getting excited," she said mildly. "But if you think it will hold then come on down and let's start chopping on that stand of small brush at the corner of the barn." An hour and a half later I threw down the double-bit ax which Paul, Freaking, Bunyan would have had difficulty swinging and I dragged myself into the shade of a tree to await the arrival of the buzzards who would pick my poor, dead bones. Yes, my little woman, the love of my life, has once again served to bring home to me the fact that, while my mind has not aged since '69, my damn body is that of a fifty-eight year old quadriplegic! AND I GOTTA GO TO WORK TOMORROW!!!! If you will pardon me, I am now going to stop this blog and go take an Absorbine Jr. bath then drag what's left of me to my bed! |
| Three days away....man that was a nice little vacation! I know some of you enjoyed the respite from my ramblings almost as much as I did, but unfortunately, all good things must end so.....I'm baaaaaack! A funny thing happened a couple of days ago...I discovered Life. Wow, who knew! I really never saw it coming, it happened pretty much by surprise, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. You see, I was minding my own business, having just arrived home from work and settled into my computer chair getting all set to dive into the world of WDC when the phone rang. It was the man I had hired to brush-hog the pasture that we are going to keep Mel's horse in. He said he was ready to do the work if I would come over and let him through the gate which guards the place. Well I grumbled and gripped about getting pulled away from my precious computer, but I grudgingly headed out the door for the one mile trip to the pasture. Of course once there, I had to stay with him until he finished the job in case there were any obstacles hidden in the tall weeds that needed moving in order for him to mow. Well I took up my station under a giant magnolia tree which stands in the center of the field and the man went to work. I squatted there under the tree and watched as the thick blanket of tall weeds and small saplings which had overgrow the place were mowed down. Slowly but surely the place started looking like something fit to hold horses or cows. The fence, which had been knocked down in one spot by a careless high-line employee, had been replaced at no charge to us and some trash and old boats that had been stored in the field had been hauled off....yup, the place was starting to look real good. I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but as I watched the man on the mower make his slow progress around the pasture, I began to make plans. I began to actually see Mel's horse in it's new home and then it came to me that there was room for a few goats, maybe a cow...... Without realizing it, I had reached down and gripped a handful of rich, loamy, soil and brought it up to my nose to smell. Yes. this would be good soil for winter grass for the animals to feed upon...I planned where I would sow the seeds.... You see how sneaky it came upon me? I mean, just like that, I was back in a mode of life and thought that I had turned my back on forty years ago. In my mind I could already see the livestock in the pasture, I could feel the soft leather of the saddle and tack for the horse, and I could feel the rocking motion of riding every day once more.....Life. It just sneaks up on you some time. So, I have been three days away from a machine I use to visit a BUSINESS I pay $50.00 a year to USE. You see that is what WDC is when you measure it against real life. It is a business started by some kids, that people pay good money to use to their advantage. As I stepped off the area I wanted to plant the winter grass in, I realized this enlightening information. WDC is a business, a good business, and one I will continue to use to further my ambitions in regards to my writing. As I leaned against the back fence and eyed the slope of the ground around the barn for drainage problems, I also thought about the unforeseen blessings that my $50.00 has brought me. I have learned so much about a form of writing I knew nothing about before joining here: The blog. Not only have I learned how to and how not to write a blog, I have been fortunate enough to make a very large group of friends who are of like-mind. I have definitely got my money's worth. After that day, it was easier the next couple of days to continue my little vacation. You see, when measured against real life, the stuff that happens on this page means very little in the great scheme of things and now I can see that clearly. If I hadn't already come to that simple conclusion, the news of the college shooting would have hammered it home to me for sure. 32 innocent children gunned down, 32 families torn asunder. Compared to that kind of drama, the whining and snotting of angry bloggers really does seem insignificant doesn't it. So having rediscovered a love of a life I had before walked away from, I am doomed never again to even worry about having a "blue month". Oh I am planning on continuing this blog, but only when I have something to say and THE SPARE TIME to say it. I hope all of you who have read this blog in the past will continue to read it on the days I can write and I hope that all of you have the success and get everything out of this site you need to get from it. But, I also hope each of you remember...it's just an online site, it's not real life. The best thing you will ever take from this site, or any other site online are the friends you make...keep them close and cherish them no matter where you go in life. I know I will. So, until next time I have something interesting, or funny to say....you guys take care and live life...everything else you can turn off with a flip of the computer switch. |
| As the title emplies, this entry is about something that just pisses me off so if you are using the blog peeker and don't want to read a damn rant, please move along to another blog...I will understand. The other day I noticed that the needle on my gas gauge had dropped a half inch below empty and it had its little hands wrapped around the big E in an effort not to drop completely out of sight. Now me being me, I knew this was the time to pull into my friendly neighborhood Arab Prosperity outlet and purchase some fuel in order to make it back home. "THUD" I stood there at the pump and went into shock as I watched the little indicator that measured the amount of money I was spending on gas spin at warp speed. By the time the car was full of the liquid gold I discovered that I had spent a large portion of a hundred dollar bill. You know it is no coincidence that you are partly bent over when you pump the gas into your car. For that kind of money they could furnish a jar of vaseline to each customer just to ease the pain. Yeah, the price of gas pisses me off. I am sure I am not alone in feeling this anger either. I mean, really, have any of you noticed that lately the price of gas jumps every time the sky clouds up...why is that? I will tell you why the price jumps constantly. It's because the oil companies have discovered the secret about Americans....WE WILL ACCEPT ANYTHING AS LONG AS WE DON'T HAVE TO GIVE UP OUR COMFORT. Look, let's just take the corner gas station shall we. The owner of the station has two very large underground tanks in which he stores his gas which is delivered from the refinery. He buys that gas at a certain price. Then, the oil company hears on the news that night that Sheik Omar's favorite camel has died from eating bad dates: OH MY GOD! THE SHEIK IS IN MOURNING! Of course this can only mean that the Sheik will PROBABLY raise the price of oil NEXT WEEK because he believes that the Great Satin: America is to blame for his camel dying; they probably poisoned the dates! So what does the oil company do? Well instead of waiting for the sheik to MAYBE raise the price of crude oil NEXT WEEK, they get on the phone and tell the gas station owner to raise the price of gas THEY ALREADY HAVE IN THE STORAGE TANKS by ten cents. That way they can make up for the lost profit if the Sheik DOES actually raise the price of oil in the future. Now can you tell me what other retailer in a free enterprise system could get away with this? We call that price gouging and it is SUPPOSED to be illegal. But, we Americans, as spoiled to the comfort of convenience that we are, can not bear to be without gas, so we pay whatever price they ask of us. Hell, it's our fault gas goes up every other damn day, we are the ones that let them get away with it by our consumption of their product. WE ARE SPOILED! Let me ask you this: What would happen to the price of gas if we decided to ration ourselves? What would be the result of us actually cutting back our driving to only necessity driving, like to work and back home and a ONCE a WEEK trip to the grocery store? What would happen if we STOPPED traveling on vacation for just ONE summer? I'll tell you what would happen: 1. The damn Sheik would stick his head out of his tent-the one he has pitched in front of the 20 million dollar mansion just for show- and he would yell at his workers: "HEY! You guys open the valve up and send the Yankee Devils more oil and cut the price in half; the bastards aren't buying enough. How am I gonna pay for the gold statue in honor of my poor, dead camel?" 2. The Oil Company presidents are going to stick their head out of their Wall Street offices and yell to their workers: "HEY! you guys go ahead and implement some of those alternative fuel sources we found THIRTY YEARS AGO. Looks like the Rubes are getting tired of being gouged for oil. We need to start gouging them for fuel made of corn, or maybe we can figure out how to charge for SOLAR power." Bottom line: If we, as a nation, could learn to sacrifice like our fathers and grandfathers once did, we would not be getting screwed nearly as bad every time we gassed up the damn car. Yeah, I know.....FAT CHANCE! Now pardon me, I have to jump in the car and drive to the end of the driveway and check my damn mail!! |
| Maybe you've seen this before, maybe not; either way, it is fun and a little surprising. Besides, this is as close to a real blog entry as I will get today so knock yourself out. LOL! YOUR AGE BY EATING OUT Don't tell me your age; you probably would tell a falsehood anyway-but your waiter may know! YOUR AGE BY DINER & RESTAURANT MATH This is pretty neat 1. First of all, pick the number of times a week that you would like to go out to eat. (more than once but less than 10) 2. Multiply this number by 2 (just to be bold) 3. Add 5 4. Multiply it by 50 5. If you have already had your birthday this year add 1757 .... If you haven't, add 1756. 6. Now subtract the four digit year that you were born. You should have a three digit number The first digit of this was your original number (I.e.: How many times you want to go out to restaurants in a week.) The next two numbers are YOUR AGE! (Oh YES, it is!!!!!) |
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